


Septet

by turpentinevalentine



Category: Petscop (Web Series)
Genre: Needles piano, Quitter’s Room, Sensory Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28938900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turpentinevalentine/pseuds/turpentinevalentine
Summary: Inside the Quitter’s Room, Petscop 7. Something’s happening.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Septet

She felt sick. There was only a void, darkness. It was suffocating, the vacuum of nothing she was subject to. If she made a noise, nothing would come out. If she waved her hand, no air would brush past. Complete deprivation. She was starving.

The tune echoed in her head, but there she sat immobilized. Somehow, she knew if she hummed it into existence something awful would happen. Hell, she wanted something to be there, just so she could remind herself she was alive. Some sort of proof. Anything but this. 

It was an immense presence, the nothing. 

Maybe just one more time?

What did she do wrong? Was her fingering off? Practice felt like a death sentence - she couldn’t remember how many times he placed that prism in her hands, followed shortly by barking criticism. Do. It. Right. Next. Time. There was no next time, just a vicious cycle of punishment and waiting.

She pressed her index on the mirror. The most hollow noise in the world rang out.

Under her breath, she flicked her tongue to sound out the melody. Two, five. One, four. One, five, three. Switch - you need to make up for that reach, swap your middle and ring finger. Thumb, pinky. Ring, thumb. Third, fifth, first, second.

A wave of nausea came over her. She didn’t plan ahead - the next note was an octave up, and the webbing between her fingers could only stretch so far. She wanted it to rip, she didn’t care. Just don’t mess up again, why do you mess up, why can’t you get it right?

As her fingers danced on the glass, a single word came to mind.

“Trapped...”

**Author's Note:**

> Short, but I feel so bad for Tiara. Lots of visceral feelings in this series I feel can be articulated through writing...


End file.
